


Billiard Boy

by TheLanceShow



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Arcades, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Cutesy, Fluff and Smut, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Keith and Shiro are Adoptive Siblings, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Minor Hunk/keith - Freeform, Minor Original Character(s), Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pole Dancing, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Sharing a Bed, Swing Dancing, oblivious dorks, pastel lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-11-18 17:52:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11295726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLanceShow/pseuds/TheLanceShow
Summary: One night, two young men walk into a billiard club. They play with two other people, kicking their asses like it was no big deal. Nobody expected further interaction, yet here they are.OrShiro and Lance are oblivious idiots that met in a billiard club, and Hunk and Keith become fuck buddies.EDIT: ON HIATUS





	Billiard Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Whine*: Jamaican dance. Look it up ;)

"Stripes," Keith murmured, leaning on his cue lightly. "You should know this by now."

Coran tutted, "It's out of courtesy, red paladin." He finished lining up the balls on the pool table and placed a sign that read 'Looking for Solids' on the corner of the table.

Keith rolled his eyes at the nickname and watched the room. No-one seemed interested in playing; or, at least, they were already playing with someone else. Then boisterous laughter came from behind a door and in came two young men, giggling and tripping over their own feet.

He couldn't help but notice the shorter, more lean man of the two first. He wore an off-white pullover--obviously too big with by the way it was tied at his waist, sleeve hems hanging past his fingertips--and denim shorts, ones that highlighted just how long and smooth his legs are. Keith wasn't particularly interested, though he did think he was good-looking.

The bigger man caught his attention more. He seemed like a gentle giant in straight jeans and a white shirt, hair pulled back with a ribbon. His face was kind as he laughed at something his friend had said.

They both slid into bar stools, surprisingly smooth, and waved down the bartender. Two shot glasses were placed in front of each of them.

Coran hummed, "Why not one of those gentlemen? Everyone else is either playing, lounging, or sitting by the bar. At least try."

Keith furrowed his eyebrows and stared at the two, until the one in the shorts threw a quick glance over his shoulder. He then nudged his friend, and gestured to Keith. The shorter one slammed down his drinks while the huskier man slowly sipped his own, face disgusted.

Shorts hopped down from the stool, sauntering over to Keith. He smelled of faint whiskey and flowers.

"Looking for an opponent or whatever?" He asked, leaning against the pool table. "I'm pretty decent."

Keith gave him a once-over and raised an eyebrow. "Sure, dude. Keith. I'm stripes."

"Yeah, the sign says that. I'm Lance," The guy said absentmindedly as he looked at the available cues. "Damn, all the good ones are gone." He smiled at Keith, expression mischevious. "Prepare yourself."

 

Keith really should have prepared himself.

Seriously.

He and Lance were neck and neck for a while, then the score fiddled out to 7-3. Lance smirked at him and gave a lazy salute, then put the cue back on the rack.

"Are you really drunk?" Keith asked. "If you were, you wouldn't have had such an easy time beating me."

"At most, I'm tipsy, and I'm a fucking awesome shot. My pal and I," He pointed over his shoulder to the bigger man. "Usually hustle people. Ya know, since they think we suck if we're drunk--since we sort of dab ourselves with alcohol--we smell like we're drunk. But he's tired and I'm bored." Lance shrugged as he walked back to his friend. A harsh, loud smack on the back. He woke with a snort.

Lance was obviously done, as he didn't address Keith after the game.

That is, until Shiro showed up an hour late. Keith startled when a large hand clapped hard onto his shoulder.

"Keith, I'm sorry." He apologized. "I fell asleep in the bath."

"For an entire hour?"

"Well... Yes." He smiled, small. "Wanna play a game?" He looked towards the rack and frowned. "Even though there aren't any more good cues."

Keith nodded and Shiro pulled out a cue. Lance and his friend appeared next to the table and Keith noticed he was hungrily taking Shiro in with his eyes.

"I'm Lance," He said with a friendly smile. "This is my friend Hunk."

Hunk waved and smiled at Keith; he felt himself blush.

Shiro turned and opened his mouth but stopped short, instead flushing and inhaling roughly, causing him to cough harshly. Lance glanced at Keith, concerned.

"He's fine," Keith said. "I'm Keith, that's Shiro."

"Hi, Shiro," Lance purred. Shiro stared at him with wide eyes and Keith could practically feel waves of infatuation rolling off of him. "Hey, Keith."

"Yeah, hello." Hunk said, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"So," Lance started, grinning. "How about doubles? You'll have to teach me how to play, though."

"I'll teach you," Shiro blurted, and he covered his mouth. Keith frowned; if he was acting like this, Lance must really be his type.

 "But you-" Keith started. He stopped when Lance gave him a killer look. "Nevermind."

Lance walked over to Shiro, one fist on his mouth and his other hand behind his back. His sleeve covered his hands and he was the human embodiment of 'barely legal.'

Shiro was flustered, that he could tell. He kept laughing in a nervous way, even when Lance hadn't said anything. Lance whispered something and laid a hand on his bicep. Shiro looked as if he were going to combust.

"Such a tease, right?" Hunk asked, smiling fondly at Lance. "He told me to pretend he didn't know how to play." He looked sideways at Keith. "You interested in him?"

"More into you, actually," Keith said with a smirk. Hunk stuttered and laughed lightly. "Expect the unexpected, am I right?"

"Do you want me to teach you how to play something else? It involves bending over." Hunk winked.

Keith flushed with raised eyebrows, a pleased smile on his face. "I suppose I didn't expect that. I'm a hypocrite."

"Nothing wrong with that, Keith."

"Thanks for the support, Hunk."

* * *

Shiro was absently aware that Keith and Hunk were getting along splendidly. However, most of his attention was directed towards breathing, blinking, and the beautiful boy in front of him. 

Lance smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not sure that I got all of that," He had a small, almost triumphant glint in his eye.

"No problem," Shiro said quickly. "Let's try 8-Ball then." Lance nodded. "Just pick which type of ball you want. Either colored or striped, and try not to sink the black ball. If you pot the white ball, the person you are against gets to reposition the ball and hit. If you sink the black ball, the other team wins. If you shoot and hit the opponent's ball, they get to reposition the ball. If you hit your ball, and their ball goes into the pocket, it still counts towards them. We switch every time the ball is in our possession. If you sink one of our balls in our turn, we can go again."

Lance tilted his head, "Okay, I think I can do that."

"Do you know how to shoot?"

"I think I can learn from _watching_ you."

Shiro tried to fight off the blush and failed. He gestured to a red-faced Keith and a scarlett Hunk. "Let's play 8-Ball."

"Hunk, you go first," Lance said.

Hunk shrugged and did just that. The ball rolled and hit the tip of the triangle of balls straight on, scattering all of them. The 8 ball teetered on the edge before settling safely on the table. A single stripe went down, yet when Keith tried to hit another, it fell short.

Shiro went next, unable to sink any of the solid balls. Then Hunk, who hit the other team's ball.

"Lance, it's your turn," Shiro said with a gesture. Lance bit his lip and nodded with furrowed eyebrows. Shiro placed the white ball in a strategic place.

Fidgeting a little, he went at an angle that would surely sink the yellow ball, and slowly bent over on the table.

Shiro had a new appreciation for shorts, especially the length of Lance's.

But Lance was going about hitting the ball wrong. Shiro really hoped he wouldn't have to teach him.

"No, Lance," He said softly, coming up to his side. "You can't hit it like that."

"You can hit me like this," Lance said to himself, then smiled innocently at Shiro.

"W-What?"

"Why can't I hit it like this?"

"Your form is wrong," He said, with a shake of his head. "You'll hit someone in the face."

"Well, guide me."

Shiro sighed, resigned, and kept his face stoic and he positioned himself behind Lance. "Stand up, please."

Lance did so quickly, and his ass rubbed lightly against Shiro for a moment. "Now what?" He asked, looking over his shoulder. Shiro couldn't stop staring at his mouth. "Shiro?"

"Uh?" Shiro said dumbly. "Spread your arms out."

Lance did, and Shiro aligned his arms with Lance's, covering his hands with his own. "Bend back over."

"Okay."

* * *

Keith watched the encounter, absolutely horrified. As Lance bent over, Shiro followed suit. He was visibly sweating and Lance purposefully pushed back, just a little. All the while, Lance was smirking as if he had won the lottery.

"Pretty amazing, huh?" Hunk asked with a grin. He made eye contact with Lance and they both let out a tiny laugh.

"Are you alright?" Shiro asked Lance.

"Oh, definitely."

"I think your friend likes him," Hunk whispered.

"Shiro?" Keith said. "He really wants in his pants."

* * *

Shiro's crotch resting against Lance's ass had him blushing. Shiro was without a doubt one the hottest guys Lance has ever seen. His ex, a bitch named Nyma, was high on the scale when it came to hot or not, but Shiro?

Aye, Papí.

"Bend your arm back," Shiro said, gently guiding Lance's arm to bend. His breath faintly brushed Lance's neck and he shivered. "Firmly grasp the bottom of the shaft."

Lance snorted but wrapped his hand around the grip. "Like that?" He breathed, looking over his shoulder at Shiro. The big man's face was amazingly pink.

"Yeah," His voice cracked at the end of the word. "Now spread your middle and index finger apart, rest the tip of the cue on the table, and position your fingers so the tip is in between them."

He shifted, genuinely uncomfortable with hovering over the table the way he was, and felt Shiro stiffen. He followed his directions. "Is this good?"

"Very," Shiro said quietly, then cleared his throat. "Are you ready to continue playing?"

"Of course," Lance responded, smiling over his shoulder. Shiro let go and stumbled back a few steps before grinning back, albeit shaky. 

"Come on, guys. We're ready," Shiro called. They waited, then Lance moved again, into a more comfortable position. He looked Shiro in the eyes, a smug grin in place, and shot without looking.

A short chain reaction, and three solid balls had been sent to the different holes; no stripes were sunk.

Keith whistled, "Damn, Lance. That's talent."

Lance smiled cheekily at Shiro. "What a great teacher I have."

Shiro stared at him, in awe and mild irritation. "You knew how to play."

"Ah, ah, technicalities." Lance said lightly. "I didn't know how to play 8 ball until you told me, if that's what you want to believe. I'm just a really great shot." He winked and handed Shiro the cue, trailing his fingers down the shaft.

* * *

Shiro.exe has stopped working.

He stared at Lance, impassive, long after the cue was in his hand. "I'm going to beat your ass with this stick." He stated calmly. From the corner of his eye, he could see Keith's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Lance looked unfazed.

Shiro never really lost his temper around strangers, but Lance was on a whole 'nother level; he was definitely playing him. Shiro had spent time working, explaining, and reexplaining the rules of the game. Even trying to teach Lance how to shoot properly!

So many wasted efforts. Sure, there was a pleasant experience that came from it. But it was an unnecessary thing to do.

"Kinky," Lance said with an amused expression, eyebrow going up and a lewd, lopsided smile sitting pretty on his lips. "Your turn, hot stuff."

When Shiro simply stared, Lance scoffed and looked heavenward, before poking a long finger into Shiro's chest.

"Listen, my dude. I like your face, you like my ass." Lance said, smiling, little dimples showing next to his mouth. "It was a win-win situation, no? Let's play strip 8 ball!"

The last was added as an afterthought, and he turned to Hunk. "C'mon, babe! My love! Sugar plum! Pumpkin! Sweet di-"

"Lance, no," Hunk said with a laugh. "Let's just play, you asshole."

Lance pouted and blinked at Shiro, "You know, for a best friend, he's a terrible wingman." He rolled his eyes again. "Whatever; are you going to play?"

Shiro, stepping up to the challenge, unbuttoned his blue dress shirt and threw it to the ground; the cue rolled to the ground from its perch on the side of the table. He heard a sharp intake of breath and looked at Lance, who was flushing heavily and averting his eyes.

"Ah, well," He coughed and ran his hand through his hair. "Let's, uh, let's not play strip 8 ball. I've changed my mind."

"But I cost us a shot before."

"Yeah, no, don't worry about it."

Shiro felt devastated--maybe Lance thought he was ugly with the scars that littered his body--until Hunk snickered and lightly pushed Lance from behind. He stumbled forward and braced himself on Shiro's shoulders as he fell into him.

"Whoa," Lance whispered, staring at Shiro's shoulders. "I-I. Sorry!" He squealed, then took a large step back. Lance glared at Hunk and grabbed him by the ear, saying lowly and at a rapid pace, _"Estoy haciendo todo lo posible para no darle una bofetada. ¡Déjame hacer esto, maldita sea,_ Hunk!"

"Lance, I have no idea what you're saying but it's scaring me." Hunk yelped, trying and failing to get Lance to stop pinching his ear. His tone was threatening and the foreign language made it all the more terrifying.

He stared at Hunk, eyes narrowed. Shiro, not a fan of confrontation, walked over and picked Lance up by the waist from behind. Lance squeaked and let go of Hunk, scowling at Shiro once he put him down.

"If you're gonna touch me, you need to learn how to do it right," He snapped, picking the cue up from the floor. "Now go, and please put your shirt back on." His ears were tipped with red. "N-Not that I mind or anything. You look good with it off. Okay, I'm done."

 

The night went on like that, Shiro with his shirt off and Lance a blushing mess, high-key Hunk and Keith flirting with each other, and Shiro's team won, thanks to Lance.

Lance and Shiro had been eyeing each other the entire time, gazes filled with curiosity and a certain type of hunger.

"Lance, uh, come here for a second," Hunk said quietly, grabbing Lance's arm and tugging him gently.

Hunk whispered something into Lance's ear and Lance grinned, delighted. He nodded hurriedly, pushed a chain of keys into Hunk's hand, and gently pushed Hunk off into Keith's direction. Shiro watched in astonishment as he and Hunk left the club together, with Keith throwing a shy smile at Shiro.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Lance let out a loud "Whoop!" and raised a victorious fist in the air. "Yes! I ship it!"

"He just," Shiro said. "Really? That's not like Keith."

Lance simpered at him, eyes dark in the dim lighting. "My buddy isn't like that. He's probably gonna watch a movie on our couch then make out with Keith."

Shiro shifted on his feet as Lance went to pick up his shirt. He held it out, clutching it in his fist, the other on the back of his neck. A coy smile.

"We should hang out; it's only nine o'clock. Maybe go to a late-night arcade?" Lance asked. "There's one downtown. Of course, you'll have to put your shirt on."

Shiro contemplated for a bit before nodding, swiftly grabbing his shirt and doing the buttons.

"Um, Hunk took my car, so can we take yours? I'll give directions." Lance bit his lip and smiled charmingly. There wasn't a chance that Shiro would say 'no.'

"Sure," Shiro shrugged, then gestured for Lance to go first. They left the club together and Lance gaped at Shiro's car. Then he began to laugh.

"W-What?" He choked out. "This is literally something out of my childhood dreams!"

Shiro flushed and rubbed a hand down his face. His car was goofy, shaped like a cat, tail and ears included. But he liked it, so why not?

"This is so epic," Lance muttered, dragging his hand along the car as he rounded to the passenger's side. "You might actually be my hero."

"Would you like to drive?" Shiro asked, holding up a chain of keys. Lance squeaked and ran to Shiro.

"Is it the one that looks like a paw print?" Lance said excitedly, eyes twinkling in the poorly illuminated parking lot. Shiro nodded and Lance snatched the keys, unlocking the car. When it meowed, Lance looked about ready to die.

"Oh, God. Marry me so we can get divorced and I can take the car." Lance swoons, swinging open the driver's seat. He sat down and peered at Shiro expectantly. "You gonna get in or what?"

Shiro smiled softly and rounded the car, slipping into the seat. He buckled in and Lance shut his door with a slam, starting the car and bursting into giggles when _Buttons_   by _PCD_ began to play. Shiro smacked a hand over his face.

"Is everything cat themed?" Lance snickered, then carefully pulled back out of the lot.

 

Lance is a terrible driver.

Well, not particularly terrible, but he drives way too fast for Shiro's liking. The typical twenty minute drive--according to Lance--to the arcade only took ten with Lance's heavy foot.

Shiro was glad to make it there alive.

"Keys!" He said, holding out his hand. Lance pouted but dropped them into his palm nonetheless.

"Too fast for ya?" Lance asked with a wink, climbing out of the car. Shiro quickly climbed out after him, locking his car doors. They entered the building.

"What kind of..." The words died on Shiro's tongue as he stared at the arcade. There was a huge dance floor in the middle of it and it was surrounded by various arcade games and claw machines. There was a bar to the far left corner and the area where you turn in tickets stood at the front.

"Late night arcade equates to adult arcade," Lance said with a smirk, prancing up to the counter. "Two hundred tokens, please!" He chirped over the music. The girl working at the counter, whom previously seemed bored out of her mind, perked up.

"Anything else?" She asked. "It's on the house if you do me a small favor." She slid two hundred coins in rolls to Lance. That's when Lance reached across the counter, grabbed the girl's face, and planted a kiss onto her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed and he pulled away with a smile.

"Thanks for the tokens!" He giggled, grabbing them and gesturing to Shiro. He quickly made his way over to Lance; the girl still stood there, hearts in her eyes, as she stared at Lance.

"You should really give that back to her," Shiro said, crossing his arms and following Lance to an RPG shooter game. "You have to pay for those."

Lance turned on his heels sharply, almost causing Shiro to fall into him. "She wasn't complaining, nor did she stop me." He raised his eyebrows expectantly. They fell back down when Shiro didn't respond.

"What color are your eyes?" Shiro asked as Lance moved around him, heading towards a different game; trying to make small talk wasn't always his strong suit.

"Don't _you_ have eyes, dude?" Lance asked, stopping at an air hockey table.

"Well, everywhere I've seen you, the lights are pretty low."

Lance placed tokens in each slot, then pointed at one end of the table. "Sucks. Go on that end." When Shiro didn't budge, Lance rolled his eyes. "Brown, okay? Nothing special."

"It's unique to everyone," Shiro said, smiling at Lance. He furrowed his brows and walked over to his side of the table. Shiro did the same. Lance placed the puck in the middle of the table, grabbing the purple pusher.

"Aw, I wanted the purple one!" Shiro playfully complained. Lance scoffed as Shiro picked up his own; a pretty, deep blue.

"Ready, set..." Lance started, smirking. "Go!"

 

His ass was handed to him and Shiro didn't even care. He liked to see Lance laugh, pump his fist in victory, the way he tried to distract Shiro by wiggling his arms from side to side.

That is, until they went head-to-head in strength games.

"Come on, Shiro! Hit softer! I just wanna be happy in life!" He whined, tugging on his sleeve. Shiro simply smirked, then brought the hammer down, making the indicator shoot up to the top. Lance groaned and spun in circles as the machine chanted, 'Winner, winner, chicken dinner!'

He grabbed the silver ticket from the dispenser and raised an eyebrow when Lance lowered himself to the ground.

"Woe is me," He sighed, flipping onto his back. "Ah, I'm dying. Wake me up,  _wake me up inside-"_

"Jeez, Lance."

"'Twas beauty that killed the beast!" He wailed, fake tears coming to his eyes. "O how love can betray us!" He closed his eyes. "Oh dearie me, it seems Lance is dead. You know, he'd probably come back to life if someone bought him a drink."

People were staring and Shiro couldn't find it in himself to care. He laughed at the sight, Lance sticking his tongue out to the side. It was when a man squatted next to Lance that Shiro sobered.

"Would you like me to buy you a drink?" The guy asked with a sketchy grin. Lance's hackles immediately went up as he opened his eyes and curled his lip. He sat up quickly.

"Would you like to leave me alone? I sure would appreciate it." Lance snarked. The man put a hand on Lance's shoulder. "Okay, I'm done asking. Get your hand off of me and fuck off."

"Hey, sweetness, it's all right. You're not dirty or anything if you take a drink from me."

It was quiet for a beat, a small crowd of people watching the exchange, before Lance smiled sweetly and held a hand out. The guy stood and helped Lance up. He put a bit of distance between them.

"Thanks for the help," Lance said innocently, with a tiny grin. There was a spark in his eye that Shiro really liked. "Can I gift you before you buy me a drink?"

"Of course, darl-"

Oh God, they were going to get kicked out of the arcade.

The reason why?

Lance just roundhouse kicked the creep straight in the jaw, form perfect, leg swinging with the grace of a swan. He spun in his heel, making sure the guy felt the entire impact, before he slowly put his leg down.

"I shouldn't have to tell you more than once to leave me alone," Lance smiled at the man laying on the ground, curled up into a ball and cradling his face. He pulled his hand away and it came away bloody.

"What the fuck?!" He asked. "Shit!"

Lance looked around the small group circling them. "We all heard me tell him to leave me alone, yes?" A few nods. "He fell headfirst onto the floor, right?" More agreement. Lance smiled, "Coolio. Shiro, let's get buzzed."

They walked around the man that cursed them and headed to the bar. They sat down on the white leather stools and waved the bar keep down.

"Are you okay?" Shiro asked, worried. Lance seemed completely fine, raising a fine eyebrow at the question.

"Yeah? I took self defense classes from ages fourteen to twenty. Ever since puberty hit, you know?" Lance answered, smiling at the bartender. "Can I get a-"

"Boneless pizza?"

Lance snorted and laughed behind his hand. "No, no. A  _Death in the Afternoon._ If you have it, of course."

"Sorry," the bartender sighed with mock sadness; his voice was gruff and and strangely soothing. "No absinthe, or any fun drinks, actually."

"What a shame," Lance said, crossing his arms and leaning forward on the counter. "Light drinks only, huh? Name a good one."

The bartender leaned forward as well, making Shiro frown. "How about a Swimming Pool?"

"What's so good about it?"

"'Cause I'm swimming in those baby blues of yours, honey." He winked and Lance laughed again, tips of his ears red.

"Wow, good one."

"Your eyes are blue?" Shiro asked. "You told me they were brown." The question went unanswered as the bartender spoke over him.

"We have tequila Rose, too."

"Is it sweet?"

"Almost as sweet as you. And just as pink now!"

Shiro watched the flirting, mind blank. Lance had come here with him, so why wasn't he paying Shiro any attention?

_Wow, that sounded needy._

He didn't know how much time has passed with the heavy flirtation, but then Lance was shaking Shiro's shoulder.

"Can I make you a drink? Please?" Lance asked. "They have gin! Rolo is gonna teach me how to make a Ramos..." Lance trailed off. "Shiro, are you okay?"

"What? Yeah, go ahead." He flattened out his expression into one of contentment instead of annoyance.

"M'kay!" Lance said excitedly. The bartender--Rolo--opened the bar to let Lance get in. He bounced to him, practically vibrating.

Shiro looked on as Rolo stood close to Lance, telling him when to add this, how to crack the egg properly.

"Now, you have to shake. For a full minute." Rolo said. 

Lance pursed his lips and covered the glass with the metal from the shaker. He sauntered up to Shiro.

"Shake, shake, shake, senora, shake ya body line," He sang lightly, jerking the drink up and down, dancing with the song. "Shake, shake, shake, senora, shake it all the time," He smiled.

"Work, work, work, senora, work your body line!" He sang, shaking the drink vigorously. "Work, work, work, senora, work it all the time!"

Shiro watched, entranced, as Lance danced. Drink still in hand, he exited from behind the bar and shook his hips against Shiro.

He jumped to the rhythm in his head, "And when she get the sensation, she go up in the air, come down in slow motion!" He whined* to the floor then went back up.

"Jump in the line, rock your body in time," Shiro laughed.

"Okay, I believe you!" Lance giggled, doing the salsa on his own.

"Hey, you're done! Stop shaking." Rolo said, scowling lightly. He glared at Shiro, "I'll show you how to finish; you can push it towards your friend."

"Yup yup!" Lance said, going back around the counter. Rolo stood even closer to Lance now, talking quietly. Just as Lance was about to give Shiro the drink, Rolo whispered something into his ear. Lance's head snapped to him, and suddenly they were nose-to-nose.

Rolo glanced down at his lips and Lance blushed maroon, scooting away as Rolo shot him a devilish grin. He laughed shyly and pushed the drink to Shiro.

"Here you go; a Ramos Gin Fizz," Lance grinned at Shiro. "On the house."

"Lance," Rolo called. "Can you put the gin back on the top shelf?"

"You got it, dude!" Lance saluted and grabbed the gin.

Shiro took a small sip and shrugged. It was decent, but if Lance made it correctly, then he wouldn't order it again. As he took another, Lance reached up on his tiptoes, and Shiro nearly choked.

His tied sweater moved up, revealing skin. But lower, his shorts shifted down from the stretch and showed the edge of lacy underwear. Rolo made a small sound of surprise and looked away, facing Shiro. The bartender's face was surprisingly pink. Shiro was trying not to cough, making minimal noises.

"Clean up the rest, will ya?" Rolo asked; Lance groaned but agreed. "So, Lance is your friend?"

"I met Lance today," Shiro responded, pushing the beverage away. "We're not friends."

"I'd like to be his friend," Rolo said with a smirk. "Would you be all right with that?"

Not really, no.

"Lance is a person. I don't own him."

* * *

Keith didn't how he ended up like this.

Well, he did, but it wasn't expected.

Making out with a guy on their living room couch, wrists above his head and being pressed down wasn't something that happened everyday.

He was always considered 'fast' in high school. Not about track and field, though. It's been years since his last hook-up. Now, though, he discarded that title. He was ready for a nice relationship, someone to settle down with.

When he left the club with Hunk, he was ready to get laid. The guy was funny and cute, with a certain awkwardness that made him seem innocent.

When he shoved his tongue into Keith's mouth, he learned that Hunk wasn't as innocent as he appeared. He was panting below him, so fucking ready, but Hunk kept a steady pace until he couldn't go anymore. He pulled away slowly.

"Sh-should I call Lance and tell him not to come home tonight?" It took a moment for Keith to gather his wits about himself.

A beat later, Keith was nodding hurriedly, breathlessly wanting some sort of contact again. Hunk rolled off of him and grabbed his phone.

* * *

_The phone, the phone is ringing!_

Lance's ringtone startled him, almost causing him to topple over. He was finally able to place the gin on the shelf and he hopped down from the stepstool he was standing on. He answered the call from Hunk.

"Yo, yo, homie Joe."

_"Lance, I have a huge favor to ask of you."_

"What's up?" Lance asked, peering at Rolo and Shiro speaking. They would occasionally look over at him. Lance narrowed his eyes and turned his back to them.

_"You can't come home tonight."_

"So you guys are going to sleep together?"

_"Yup."_

"And it's gonna take all night."

_"Yes."_

_"¿Seriamente? No quiero quedarme en un motel! ¡Están sucias!"_ Lance screamed into the phone. He could feel Rolo and Shiro stare at his back. "I'm not staying at a motel and I'm not going to buy a hotel room for one night."

_"Are you still hanging out with Shiro?"_

"Yeah, why?"

 _"Stay with him for the night."_ There was a clicking sound, then the line went dead.

_This fucker just hung up on me._

Lance angrily shoved his phone back into his pocket and went back over to the area where Shiro and Rolo were chilling.

 "Shiro," He cooed with a smile. "I have something to ask youuu."

"Shoot," Shiro said, casting a fleeting glare to Rolo.

"Can I please, please stay at your place for the night?" Lance pleaded, hands in a praying gesture.

Shiro looked conflicted, "Lance, I can't. I just met you."

Lance pouted then turned to Rolo. "Can I stay at your place? Just for the night, please!"

"Sure," Rolo smiled.

"Lance, you barely know this guy," Shiro interjected. Lance looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Right, then where should I go? Afterall, I  _just met you."_ Shiro winced, then ran a hand through his short hair. "Yeah, I thought so. Am I staying with you or what?"

"...Yeah," Shiro ran a hand down his face. "It would be easier on your friend's mind if you went with me, right? If you want to."

"Guess I'm staying the night at yours, then."


End file.
